Drabble the second
And where the heck is everybody else, man? OK, this one is not cooperating as much, but it fits the bill. Top 100 tune is little Avril Lavigne's "I'm With You." Why, yes, I did use that line. Also, in this story, the night is cold and damp, and Van doesn't really know who Deaq is. Or maybe he does. Word count for this one is 867.
Van really didn’t mean for Deaq to catch him outside, but the night is damp, a little cold, so he had to turn the heater on in the car. And when the private security guard patrolling Deaq’s upscale, gated community slowed just a bit as his car passed Van’s "borrowed" Maserati, parked at the curb, Van should have known he was busted. He didn’t leave, though, and now here is Deaq, tapping on the window, telling Van to come inside.
There is an actual fire blazing in the living room, the lights are low, and soft music-Etta James, maybe-is drifting through the house. Van sinks to the floor directly in front of the fire and automatically reaches for the glass of scotch Deaq waves in his line of vision.
“So,” Deaq asks, settling on the rug next to Van, swirling his own drink around in the glass before taking a sip. “To what do I owe this impromptu visit? I thought you were on another date with Hillary.”
Yup, busted, Van thinks again. He’s not sure where to start, so the middle seems as good a place as any. “Yeah, see I wasn’t actually out with Hillary. I was just … out.” Deaq has an infuriating capacity to sit still and say nothing in a way that makes Van just want to babble on non-stop. “We … uh, me and Hillary … we only went out a few times. It wasn’t a real relationship or anything. I don’t think. Um … ” Yeah, this is going well, Van thinks.
“Let me guess, partner, she either a) realized her little fantasy of ‘Officer’ Ray is more like the knight in tarnished armor type, or b) you didn’t exactly let her in from the get go.” The words Deaq chooses are a little mocking, but the tone of his voice is soft, even forgiving.
“A little bit of both,” Van mumbles and gives in to the urge to lean against Deaq, letting his partner take some of the weight, some of the hurt he’s been carrying. Deaq pulls him into a one-armed hug and doesn’t say ‘I told you so.’ Van is eternally grateful. When he allows himself to think about it, Van recognizes that it’s completely crazy that he can tell Deaq pretty much anything, do almost anything, and Deaq will still make a place for him in his life.
He doesn’t even know this man; hasn’t worked with him a whole year yet. Hell, he’s known Deaq’s *parents* longer than he’s known the man himself. But Deaq does know him, somehow, in ways it never even occurred to Van to know anyone, let alone his partner. And sometimes that scares him a little bit because … well … *why*? What’s so special about Donovan Ray that a man like Deaq would put up with his shit again and again? Deaq even set up the possibility of Hillary, and Van managed to blow it anyway.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, and I … uh … really appreciate it that you tried to help me out, but … I suck. And. You were right.” The only thing that takes the sting out of that admission is the knowledge that Deaq really didn’t want to be right. “I just wish it didn’t feel like this. I don’t want to be alone all the time.”
Deaq wraps him in a full embrace then, pulls Van tight to his body, and whispers, “You’re not alone, baby, you’re with me.” And Van can’t help it when he starts to cry because some days he wants so badly for that to be true that it hurts him to even think about it, about being with Deaq just like this-warm, dry, safe. Right now, in the circle of Deaq’s arms, he’s thinking about being with Deaq in other ways, too, ways that make him a little ashamed to be seeking comfort here at all. When Van starts to pull away, Deaq holds onto his wrists, keeping him close.
“I *know* you, Van. What you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. I know you because I’m starting to know myself. Do you understand what I mean, partner?” Deaq reaches out to touch Van’s chin, to raise his face just enough for their eyes to meet. The understanding hits Van so hard, he is leaning toward Deaq before he can think rationally. When Deaq kisses him for the first time, Van decides rational thought is highly overrated, especially when there are more kisses, some groping, and his clothes being maneuvered out of the way where necessary.
The next semi-rational thought Van has is the realization that he is lying flat on his back, dazed, with Deaq bending over him. Deaq’s smile is bordering on the wicked, and his hands are stroking patterns into Van’s skin that make it hard to focus on any one thing. He feels Deaq’s lips just barely touching his, hears Deaq’s voice asking, “Are you with me, baby?” Van is very glad the question is a simple one. And the answer is even easier.
“Yeah, “Van murmurs against Deaq’s mouth, as his partner closes in for another kiss, “I’m with you.”
Van really didn’t mean for Deaq to catch him outside, but the night is damp, a little cold, so he had to turn the heater on in the car. And when the private security guard patrolling Deaq’s upscale, gated community slowed just a bit as his car passed Van’s "borrowed" Maserati, parked at the curb, Van should have known he was busted. He didn’t leave, though, and now here is Deaq, tapping on the window, telling Van to come inside.
There is an actual fire blazing in the living room, the lights are low, and soft music-Etta James, maybe-is drifting through the house. Van sinks to the floor directly in front of the fire and automatically reaches for the glass of scotch Deaq waves in his line of vision.
“So,” Deaq asks, settling on the rug next to Van, swirling his own drink around in the glass before taking a sip. “To what do I owe this impromptu visit? I thought you were on another date with Hillary.”
Yup, busted, Van thinks again. He’s not sure where to start, so the middle seems as good a place as any. “Yeah, see I wasn’t actually out with Hillary. I was just … out.” Deaq has an infuriating capacity to sit still and say nothing in a way that makes Van just want to babble on non-stop. “We … uh, me and Hillary … we only went out a few times. It wasn’t a real relationship or anything. I don’t think. Um … ” Yeah, this is going well, Van thinks.
“Let me guess, partner, she either a) realized her little fantasy of ‘Officer’ Ray is more like the knight in tarnished armor type, or b) you didn’t exactly let her in from the get go.” The words Deaq chooses are a little mocking, but the tone of his voice is soft, even forgiving.
“A little bit of both,” Van mumbles and gives in to the urge to lean against Deaq, letting his partner take some of the weight, some of the hurt he’s been carrying. Deaq pulls him into a one-armed hug and doesn’t say ‘I told you so.’ Van is eternally grateful. When he allows himself to think about it, Van recognizes that it’s completely crazy that he can tell Deaq pretty much anything, do almost anything, and Deaq will still make a place for him in his life.
He doesn’t even know this man; hasn’t worked with him a whole year yet. Hell, he’s known Deaq’s *parents* longer than he’s known the man himself. But Deaq does know him, somehow, in ways it never even occurred to Van to know anyone, let alone his partner. And sometimes that scares him a little bit because … well … *why*? What’s so special about Donovan Ray that a man like Deaq would put up with his shit again and again? Deaq even set up the possibility of Hillary, and Van managed to blow it anyway.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out, and I … uh … really appreciate it that you tried to help me out, but … I suck. And. You were right.” The only thing that takes the sting out of that admission is the knowledge that Deaq really didn’t want to be right. “I just wish it didn’t feel like this. I don’t want to be alone all the time.”
Deaq wraps him in a full embrace then, pulls Van tight to his body, and whispers, “You’re not alone, baby, you’re with me.” And Van can’t help it when he starts to cry because some days he wants so badly for that to be true that it hurts him to even think about it, about being with Deaq just like this-warm, dry, safe. Right now, in the circle of Deaq’s arms, he’s thinking about being with Deaq in other ways, too, ways that make him a little ashamed to be seeking comfort here at all. When Van starts to pull away, Deaq holds onto his wrists, keeping him close.
“I *know* you, Van. What you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. I know you because I’m starting to know myself. Do you understand what I mean, partner?” Deaq reaches out to touch Van’s chin, to raise his face just enough for their eyes to meet. The understanding hits Van so hard, he is leaning toward Deaq before he can think rationally. When Deaq kisses him for the first time, Van decides rational thought is highly overrated, especially when there are more kisses, some groping, and his clothes being maneuvered out of the way where necessary.
The next semi-rational thought Van has is the realization that he is lying flat on his back, dazed, with Deaq bending over him. Deaq’s smile is bordering on the wicked, and his hands are stroking patterns into Van’s skin that make it hard to focus on any one thing. He feels Deaq’s lips just barely touching his, hears Deaq’s voice asking, “Are you with me, baby?” Van is very glad the question is a simple one. And the answer is even easier.
“Yeah, “Van murmurs against Deaq’s mouth, as his partner closes in for another kiss, “I’m with you.”